The Unknown Light
by Someryn
Summary: After a year spent struggling to forget one of the strangest and most horrifying nights of his life, Harry Potter makes a shocking realization that good can emerge out of horrible experiences. Lightly AU, diverges after the end of Order of the Phoenix.
1. The Unknown Light

**WARNING**: Rape (not H/G rape). Also, Harry/Ginny haters, stay away.

* * *

_Begins after Harry's 16th birthday, before his sixth year._

The night was cold, unusually so for early August in Surrey, and Harry Potter reached groggily for the blanket he had kicked off in his sleep. As he sat up to reach for it, he noted suddenly that it was a bit bright in his cousin's second bedroom for it being the middle of the night, moonlight streaming in and illuminating his rickety old desk and Dudley's long-abandoned toys in the far corner.

His heartbeat accelerating with a mounting sense of unease, he rolled over, and immediately knew all was not well. His window was wide open, paisley curtains rippling in a crisp breeze he was sure hadn't been blowing before he went to bed. Near his bureau, something rippled in mid-air.

He sat bolt upright, reaching for his glasses with one hand and his wand with the other. Before he could do either, however, the glittering solidified into the sneering form of Bellatrix Lestrange, loyal Death Eater and perhaps the one person Harry wanted to kill in the world more than Voldemort.

Before he could do anything other than stare stupidly at her, however, Bellatrix raised her wand and whispered something he could not hear, and misty silver tendrils flew out of her wand, wrapping his arms together tightly behind his bank and forcing his legs apart, spread out in front of him on the bed. His wand and glasses dropped to the floor from suddenly frozen fingers, noticed by neither party.

"Wha-" he managed to get out, before another spell had an invisible net of air wrapped around his face, leaving him barely able to breathe. He fought to control his panic. This could not happen, not when it was so obvious that Bellatrix was the one who deserved to die for killing his godfather. It couldn't end this way…he wouldn't _let_ it end this way.

Now completely helpless, all he could do was glower in hatred at this apparition. Bellatrix moved to the foot of his bed, staring down at him past long, unbrushed hair. Her dark eyes were narrowed; but, without warning, she began to laugh. "Pathetic, little boy. You truly know nothing of defensive magic."

Harry could do nothing but stare helplessly up at her and pant through his gag, though somewhere inside of him he agreed that she had a point. Not that it mattered now; he had no doubt that Voldemort would come very soon and end his humiliation.

But where was the Dark Lord? Bellatrix never went anywhere without her master, did she? If the blood wards around his aunt and uncle's house were broken, and they must be if Bellatrix had entered, surely they would allow Voldemort in, too.

Bellatrix's peals of laughter stopped abruptly. Harry snapped his eyes back to the shrunken woman in front of him, who was watching him with a strange, mad glint in her eye. He wondered if she would try to murder him before Voldemort showed up. To what extent were prophecies self-fulfilling, anyway? Would she not even bother trying to kill him, convinced only Voldemort could?

Tossing a casual _Muffliato _over her shoulder in the general direction of his door, she said softly, almost conversationally, "My master cannot... give me what is necessary for me to prove my loyalty to Him, and thus you, Harry Potter, are my tragic second choice." She set her wand down on the bed, tantalizingly close to Harry's frozen fingertips, and began to slide off her dark robes, revealing a thin gray gown underneath.

Was she going to torture him before Voldemort came? Harry took a deep breath, and asked quickly, "Does Voldemort know you're here, Lestrange?" Her sudden flinch was answer enough. She was not here under orders. Fighting light-headedness from lack of air, he continued. "Going to get _Crucio_-ed when you come crawling back to him, for finding me behind his back?"

"He will know," she said, and to Harry's horror and disgust, began to take off her gown, as well. Though his mind was screaming with revulsion, he had no more breath to say anything. Bellatrix, now nude, casually crawled onto his bed. She was bony and sharp, and her knees dug into his thighs painfully.

She leaned over him and hissed in his ear, "It just must wait until after the deed is done, and then he will be so pleased with me...so pleased with my cleverness...and so _happy_ with what I have given him..."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Harry gasped out, even though he already knew the answer. He desperately tried to recoil from her, but the spell held, and he was left glaring at her furiously as she reached for his hips, and pulled his boxer shorts down to his ankles.

Bellatrix didn't appear put out in the slightest by his limpness. Instead, she carefully positioned her knees on either side of his hips, and as she lifted herself up, reached for the wand at her feet, and hissed a spell at his cock. Immediately, he was hard, despite the fact that he had never been less aroused in his life.

He stared at his traitorous cock, disbelieving, and tried not to scream in agony that his first time was going to be with the beast who had murdered Sirius. As he watched in frozen horror, Bellatrix now carefully lowered herself onto him. He couldn't feel his cock, so he was surprised when after only a few strokes, an expression of ecstasy came over her face. When he saw that he had slipped out of her, he realized he must have ejaculated.

Still smiling contentedly, Bellatrix rose out of bed and briskly slipped her gown and robe back on. She looked in much better spirits now and seemed almost not remember that Harry was still there. Harry, for his part, was bewildered. Had she fantasized about having sex with him? But what did Voldemort have to do with that?

"I hope you die soon, Potter." Bellatrix marched to the still-open window, fully dressed, eyeing him almost hungrily. As she faded before Harry's eyes, he heard her whisper, "My Master has plans for your demise in the very, very near future."

Now she was invisible, but her monologue continued. "Die soon, little boy, and I will laugh. Oh, how funny to see the baby Potter killed!"

She laughed hysterically, and Harry felt goose bumps pop up along his arms and bared thighs. The window slammed shut, breaking the sound of the cackling, and she was gone. Nothing but Harry's labored breathing and the too-still night air gave any indication that a Death Eater had been there.

Harry stared up into the darkness for a long time, not seeing anything, before he noticed that gradually the silver bonds holding him rigid were loosening, and he could breathe normally again.

Slowly he regained control of his body, and he laboriously reached down to pull his shorts back up. The room was quite dark with the window closed, as it should have been all along. He reached for his wand, though somehow he knew he wouldn't have to worry about Voldemort tonight. Bellatrix had come without her master knowing, and she had said she would not tell him what she had done here tonight until her plan was complete, a statement that for some reason Harry believed true.

But the looming question in his mind was what did she want? Was coitus involved in some secret Dark ritual to weaken him, like the graveyard ceremony that had given the Dark Lord a new body? Could the seed of Voldemort's enemy give the Dark Lord some unknown power? Had she simply wanted to put him off-guard in the most horrific way imaginable? Contemplating the possibilities was terrifying, but it was better than thinking about what had just happened.

Shaking his head as hard as he could against the weakening spell, he stood up and walked to the hall bathroom. His aunt and uncle would be furious if he woke them in the middle of the night, but that concern seemed laughably insignificant now.

He turned the shower on full blast, and got the water up as hot as it would go before stepping under it. He let it scald his body for a long time, concerns and fears overtaking his thoughts, as he desperately tried to forget the feel of Bellatrix Lestrange's hands on his helpless body.

* * *

After several days of hearing nothing from the Dark Lord or Bellatrix, Harry slowly began to relax, and resumed his mundane life with the Dursleys. He felt guilty about not telling Dumbledore about what had happened, but even thinking about Bellatrix's visit made his cheeks flush with humiliation and his stomach twist painfully.

_I'll tell Dumbledore eventually_, Harry resolved to himself. _But not until I'm back at Hogwarts. Serves him right for making me stay here_. But immediately Harry felt childish for planning to punish the Headmaster for protecting him via his relatives. And yet, Harry couldn't deny that letting Dumbledore know what had happened would not only be terribly embarrassing, it would prove to Dumbledore that he couldn't even protect himself adequately, even with the help of the magic that was supposed to keep him safe when he was with his relatives.

Dumbledore would be disappointed in him, he knew, even if he never said it. After his tantrum in Dumbledore's office only a few months before, Harry was loathe to say anything that might upset his mentor.

Thus, the weeks passed, and Harry was finally able to sleep through the nights without waking up before dawn in cold sweats. He concentrated harder than he ever had before on his studies, writing essays longer, for the first time in his life, than the minimum requirements, and taking notes as he read his textbooks.

When Hedwig fluttered down to his shoulder one dreary morning bearing a note from Dumbledore, Harry was in the middle of a drawing the hair on his diagram of a partially transformed boar Animagus, and almost fell out of his chair at the interruption. The note itself was brief, asking him if he would be available that evening, with the implication that Harry would be expected to make time, in any case.

His heart skipped a beat at the thought of having to see Dumbledore face to face so soon. Could he force himself to recount Bellatrix's encounter so soon? _If Dumbledore says something about the Death Eaters planning something at Privet Drive, or even just news about Bellatrix, I will, _he promised himself firmly.

When Dumbledore failed to mention anything of the sort, all the way from the journey to Slughorn's house and then the Burrow, however, Harry could not bring himself to feel disappointed that his pride could remain intact. He bid Dumbledore goodbye with only the slightest twinge of guilt, and resolved to place the entire event firmly in the past, where it belonged.

Seeing Ginny at the Burrow also helped him forget Sirius's cousin, and he had a pleasant time there, watching her laugh delightedly when she made a particularly daring move in their pick-up Quiddich games, feeling something hollow and empty when her eyes lit up at the sight of an owl from Dean.

Once he was back at school, much like the catastrophe with his godfather's mirror, Harry found himself to be a little too effective at purposely forgetting things, and thought about the nighttime incident only occasionally as his sixth year at Hogwarts passed. Ginny Weasley, his beautiful new girlfriend, occupied most of his thoughts, waking and sleeping, and time passed relatively happily as he prepared to face Voldemort.

Then, when the Headmaster took him to find that Horcrux, and was soon thereafter murdered by Snape, all thoughts of Bellatrix abandoned his agenda completely.

He left Hogwarts in a daze at the end of that school year, after reluctantly breaking things off with Ginny, and feverishly planned his acquisition of the remaining Horcruxes and vengeance for his mentor's death. He would be happy to see Bellatrix dead, but she was far down on his list of priorities, and wasting time thinking about a woman who was more than slightly unhinged after her decade in Azkaban seemed unimportant, if not downright trivial, so Harry had an easy time blocking out the event.

That was, until an otherwise unremarkable day at the end of July, as Harry walked out of his relatives' house forever, and stumbled upon something that changed his life unalterably.

* * *

So furious was he at the shouting match he had just finished with his uncle, it took Harry several startled breaths before he realized what had made him trip.

A small pile of dark, soiled blankets lay in a heap on the porch. He was tempted to just ignore it and keep walking, but a soft sound from the heap made him hesitate. If there was a kitten or other small animal trapped inside, he might as well free it. He shifted his bag to one hip, gingerly reaching out for a corner of the blanket to unfurl.

A whimpering, naked infant covered entirely in scarlet welts lay at his feet.

Harry heard his bags hit the floor, but he didn't remember letting them go. He felt a wave of nausea, and dropped to his knees so he wouldn't fall. The baby, still moaning softly and clutching at the air, squirmed not six inches from his right knee.

"Oh my God..." Harry said softly, regarding the injured child in horror. Without stopping to think that it might be a trap, or a Portkey, or not even a baby at all, he reached for it.

A girl, he noticed numbly, and filthy with urine, dirt, and blood. She was covered with cuts that appeared to have been carved all over the length of her body, from her tiny toes to her soft , dark hair, symmetric and precisely placed, which made them all the more terrifying, that an infant had been made a canvas.

Some of the cuts were fresh, leaking with blood anew when Harry had picked her up, and others were scabbed over, but they were all designs that had been marked with cold intention. The baby was shivering, despite the heat, and Harry glanced at the dirty rags she had been wrapped in before setting her carefully on his knees and pulling off his shirt to cradle her in that instead.

He rose with her in his arms, unreasonably convinced that he would drop her, and noticed a slip of parchment in a fold of the blankets. A spiky yet feminine hand had scrawled:

_A gift for the baby Potter! An abandoned, unwanted child of your very own, just as you were made so by my Lord. I should have known your seed would be too weak to give me a son to seal my link to the Lord of Darkness, but giving you this broken toy is almost as satisfying. _

_Weep, for when my Master destroys you, those you think love you will destroy it, for I have already initiated it into the ways of Darkness. Even you cannot undo the past, little boy. Are you prepared to die?_

That night, surely by now almost a year ago, rushed over him, and he struggled to breathe. Looking at the baby, with her eyes tightly shut and in a feverish sleep, he felt a strange new emotion come over him. Whether Bellatrix was lying through her teeth or not, this was an innocent child, and she needed to be cared for.

Ignoring his fallen belongings, he sighed, but walked back into his relatives' house.

Petunia was scrubbing the dishes in the kitchen when Harry returned, muttering to herself furiously. She jumped when Harry cleared his throat, and spun around to stare at him, sharp eyes widening upon seeing the child. "Get out of my house!" she said shrilly, backing up against the sink. Then, because of the nosiness she could never seem to contain, she added, "And what...is that?"

Harry unthinkingly held the child closer to him, and said with painful calmness. "This is a baby, Petunia. I daresay you've seen them before. And I'll leave the moment I've had a chance to clean her up."

She looked as if she was going to protest again, but thought better of it upon seeing the set of his eyes. "Fine," she snapped, brushing past him and storming up the stairs, not even bothering to turn off the running water.

Shaking his head, Harry carefully unwrapped the infant, who mewled as the room temperature air touched her skin, but kept her eyes squeezed shut. "Shh," he said softly, adjusting the water temperature and allowing it to fill up the other half of the divided sink.

Wincing anew at the sight of her cuts, Harry slowly set her down in the warm water. She promptly began wailing. "Don't," Harry begged her. "We have to clean you, and you'll feel much better."

He felt ridiculous trying to convince an infant of anything, but the sound of his voice did appear to calm her a bit, and he slowly poured water over her body, wincing every time he hand ran over a scab. Finally, drying her off carefully with paper towels, he looked around the kitchen for something to wrap her in. Perhaps a dishtowel? Or a bathroom towel?

He was across the room, reaching for a dishtowel, when he realized Petunia was in the doorway, holding a dusty cardboard box. Harry didn't think he had ever seen her look more nervous, or more awkward. "Dudley's baby clothes," she said gruffly, staring at the floor. "His newborn outfits might fit."

She set the box down and brushed past him to stand at the sink again. Holding the baby firmly in the crook of his arm again, Harry walked over and peered into the box, half expecting a dead cat or some other horrifying object to reveal Petunia's cruel trick.

But no, inside, stacked and neatly folded, were tiny clothes. He knelt down and picked one up. _My first, my precious,_ was hand-sewn carefully across the light blue romper. On a yellow shirt, _My little boy_ was stitched in pale green.

The sewing was not particularly good, he noticed. He had a sudden image of a pregnant Petunia laboriously adding her love to the shirt, pricking herself with her needle as often as not. Had she wanted a boy? My _first, _she had written. She had wanted more children.

But then she got me instead, Harry thought, and he did not feel guilty that his relatives had to care for him, but a little more understanding of how his aunt, at least, must have felt when Dumbledore left him on her doorstep.

"Thank you, Petunia," he said simply. "I'll just put this one on her." He picked out a soft red romper that was the least masculine-looking, and a blue cloth nappy embroidered with ducks. "Do you mind if I take a couple of these nappies?"

His aunt appeared to be trying to pretend that she was doing anything but giving Harry her son's baby clothes. "No, just hurry," she hissed as she scrubbed the counters, watching the backyard warily. Vernon had stormed out the backdoor almost simultaneously when Harry had left through the front, and the last thing Harry wanted was another confrontation with his uncle.

"Goodbye, Petunia," he said to his aunt's back, and grabbing the baby and two extra nappies, he left Number 4, Privet Drive forever.

* * *

He wasn't sure when exactly he had decided to go to the Burrow, and he felt his face flush as he realized he didn't know whether he was running to his best friend or Ginny. His heart apparently knew, however, because shortly after he stepped off the Knight Bus at dawn, he found himself standing outside Ginny's door.

It was early morning, the rising sun sending weak rays through the hallway window, and Harry wondered if he should just wait downstairs until the Weasley household woke up. Logic warred with his emotions until his hand got tired of the battle and turned the doorknob.

He held his breath. Ginny was asleep but stirring in the feeble light that streamed in from her skylight, and Harry stood still, watching her. Her long red hair was tangled from sleep and about half in her eyes, and her nose was scrunched up from resisting the persistent lightening of her room, but she was still the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

You can't have her, a nagging voice in his head told him. All you can offer her is death.

I'm just...going to get her help, he informed it, and immediately felt silly for lying to himself. He sat softly on the end of her bed, holding the baby in the crook of his arm. She had stopped fussing about halfway to Ottery St. Catchpole, and was still asleep, thumb in her mouth.

Finally, when it seemed that Ginny was not going to wake up on her own, Harry reached out and shook her gently. "Ginny...come on, wake up." She resisted for about a minute, ducking back under the covers and pushing his hand away and squirming in irritation, before she abruptly stopped moving.

"Harry?" she said, sitting up straight and looking at him blearily. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Er, sorry?" Harry tried, standing up and backing away. "I'll just...see you later..."

She sighed and pushed the covers away from her. She was wearing a thin yellow camisole, and Harry couldn't help noticing he could see her very nice breasts outlined clearly under it. "I didn't mean it like that, come back, Harry - _oh my GOD, is that a baby?_"

Her shrill cry woke up the baby, who promptly started crying. "Yes, Ginny," he said while rocking the baby, trying to soothe two upset females at once. "I found her when I was leaving my aunt and uncle's house."

"Oh, let me see her, you're not holding her right," Ginny said in exasperation, taking the baby from him, and noticing the cuts on her hands and feet. "Harry, she looks...she looks like she's been used in a Dark ritual." She looked at him in horror, begging him with her eyes to deny it.

He nodded. "I know," he started, before realizing that he was going about this all wrong, which led him to realize that he was going to have to tell her about Bellatrix. He felt stupid; of course he should have figured that out beforehand, but knowing he had to reveal his darkest secret gave him a heavy feeling of despair in the pit of his stomach.

"Ginny, I think you need to sit down." She did, carefully laying the infant across her lap. "She's, ah...Bellatrix Lestrange left her for me. There was a letter." He pulled the crumpled note out of his pocket. "Look, I didn't tell anyone this before, but-" He took a deep breath. "I think she's mine. My daughter."

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Harry was seated downstairs with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley, who was now bottle-feeding the baby, rocking her expertly. Ginny looked pale, and grew only paler as Harry recounted that horrific night a year ago, though he tried to leave out the most embarrassing details. Fortunately, no one prodded him, and they all seemed to understand, if not agree with, why he had not shared this with anyone before.

Finally, his story was finished, though his cheeks felt permanently hot with humiliation. The topic of conversation shifted to the child's future.

"Listen," Mrs. Weasley said, eyeing them all with a steely gaze. "The fact that this child's mother is evil does not doom her unless we treat her like she's already doomed. She is innocent, is that understood?"

As everyone hastened to announce that they agreed, there was a bang, and the room suddenly contained one more figure: Minerva McGonagall stood in front of the fireplace, looking a trifle unsteady from the unpleasant mode of transportation. They had to wait for her to finish coughing up soot before she could speak.

"Molly," she said hoarsely, looking around at everyone who had stood when she appeared. "Mr Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr and Miss Weasley." They all nodded when she spoke their names, Harry giving her a weak wave.

She walked over and took the baby from Mrs Weasley. "And this would be the child." She didn't wait for a response. "Please sit down, everyone. I will examine her while we're talking." She produced her wand and began to gently prod the baby, muttering spells under her breath as a soft golden aura surrounded the child.

Mrs Weasley nodded agreement and fixed Harry with a piercing stare. "Well, Harry, there's so much we have to do before this is settled, but I want to go ahead and tell you that once Professor McGonagall has made sure she's yours and isn't hiding any curses, I'm perfectly willing to take care of her until you're out of school." She smiled proudly. "I've raised seven children, after all, so I'm certainly better qualified than most people."

Harry felt light-headed. "Take care of her?" he repeated dumbly. Somehow, the idea of having the child, of caring for her permanently, hadn't sunk in.

"Well, what were you expecting, my dear? To give the child back to Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Harry shook his head. "No, of course not." The thought of allowing his child to be hurt again was utterly unthinkable. He felt the same kind of cold fury that had overcome him when Ginny was dating Dean. Protectiveness, he supposed.

"It's just...she has all those cuts. Is she going to be okay?"

Molly looked sadly upon the scarred baby. "If she's made it this far, I think she'll be fine." She reached over and gently pulled back one of the child's sleeves. "I healed the cuts, but they were made with Dark magic. The scars will be there forever."

"It's okay. I'm just glad Bellatrix didn't kill her. Giving her back to me was supposed to be another way to hurt me."

McGonagall looked up from her wandwork. "Once again, the Dark Lord's followers prove that they are incapable of understanding love. I'm sure Bellatrix Lestrange thought that only shame would keep you from killing your daughter, and thus you would be forever haunted by a reminder of that night." She set down her wand, and gave Harry's shoulder a firm squeeze.

"But she was wrong, wasn't she, Potter? To you, she isn't a hateful burden, she's just your daughter, someone you barely know but love nevertheless. Oh," she said, as if she had just remembered, "she _is _your daughter, Potter, and perfectly fine now, if not unharmed." She handed him the girl, sleeping once more.

Harry felt dizzy as he stared down at her, trying to grasp that this was a living, breathing person whom he was now responsible for. After a long moment, he said, "Thank you, Professor, but I have a question. Is there a reason Bellatrix-" he swallowed hard- "tortured her?"

Looking grave, his professor replied, "I cannot be certain. However," she said with a small smile, turning to Hermione, "Miss Granger appears to have an idea."

Hermione was sitting on the edge of her seat, and had obviously been waiting impatiently for her turn to speak. "I expect it's because most blood magic is designed for use in patriarchal situations," she said thoughtfully. "I'm sure the vast majority of blood spells would have no effect on females. Bellatrix probably tried to bond your daughter to Voldemort the usual way that heirs are bonded, and then some secret way with Dark magic that involved the cutting. Or-" she swallowed. "The cuts might have just been for their sick pleasure." She looked uneasily at the baby, and then back to Harry.

"Whatever the case, she's safe with us now," Ginny said, laying her hand on Harry's arm. "But I am curious as to how Bellatrix made it in to your relatives' house."

Everyone looked at Hermione, including McGonagall, who seemed proud of her star pupil's critical thinking skills. Hermione, though, appeared not to have thought of the answer to this question beforehand. "Well," she said, biting her lip, "Bellatrix didn't hurt you, did she? She came in and... _raped_ you, but even that was for an ulterior purpose and not specifically to harm you. And that's what those spells protect you from, isn't it - the intention to hurt or kill, so someone like Voldemort can't come in and murder you in your sleep." McGonagall nodded her approval at this assessment.

Harry couldn't help shuddering at the memory of that night. "Yeah, I guess that's true. She didn't even give me a goodbye _Crucio_ or anything."

Ron snickered at this feeble joke, and Hermione gave him an appalled look. Harry felt himself smile for the first smile in a long time. Ignoring both of them, Ginny spoke up. "And Harry, we need to pick a name for her, so we don't all have to keep saying 'your daughter'."

But before he could say anything, McGonagall stood up. "I think I'll just find myself something for breakfast, if you wouldn't mind helping me, Molly?" she asked quickly, turning to Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley stood too, ushering McGonagall into the kitchen. "Not at all, Minerva, right this way." She glanced fondly at Ginny and Harry over her shoulder as she left.

Which left Harry and his three favorite people staring at each other in bewilderment. "A name, Harry," Ginny said softly.

He was getting tired of feeling stupid so often in one night. "Oh, right. I have no idea, though. Do you have any ideas?"

"Well," Ginny started, with a very fetching blush, "I've always wanted to name my first daughter Elaine. And it means 'light,' so it's sort of like saying she can be a good person no matter who her mother was." She bit her lower lip, waiting for his reaction.

He had the impression that he was missing something important. "Are you sure? You can save it for your daughter if you want."

She blushed again. "No, it's fine." She raised her eyes slowly to meet Harry's. "I thought I would help you raise her, you know...like she was our daughter, if you want," she finished in a rush. "I know you said you need to take care of some things, but…I can wait for you," she finished softly, hopefully.

Harry was very aware of three sets of eyes watching him, Ron's most of all. "Of course you can help me with her. I'd like that." They met each other's eyes, and Harry knew suddenly, like he knew that he loved flying, that he loved her.

Unconditionally and permanently. She had accepted every aspect of him and his complicated life without complaint, and the fact that she was embracing this new addition to his life – _their_ life- was beyond words.

"Well, that's settled, then," Molly said briskly, walking back into the room and showing no shame for eavesdropping. Harry couldn't be angry: her eyes sparkled with happy tears at Harry and her daughter. Reaching to take the infant from him, she began planning how to integrate a baby into the Weasley household. "Elaine needs to be put in a crib - Ron, Hermione, you come with me. We'll put her in Fred and George's old room. Hermione, you can transfigure one bed into a crib and the other into a changing table..."

Hermione and Ron each smiled at Harry before they allowed themselves to be herded out of the room, Mrs Weasley cheerfully wondering how many of Ginny's old baby toys she would be able to find in the attic, and leaving Harry and Ginny sitting next to each other on the couch, alone.

They were both silent for a long moment, and suddenly Harry was a little unsure of himself, like back in the beginning, when he and Ginny had just started dating. After a moment, he took her hand and just looked at her. She had pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail and slipped on a faded sweater, but she was as stunning to him as if she had spent hours on her appearance.

He took a deep breath. "Ginny, it really means a lot to me, that you'll take care of her-Elaine. You know I have to fight Voldemort one day, probably soon, and I'm really glad to know she'll have someone who will keep her if I don't come out of it. But-" he spoke over her as she opened her mouth furiously, no doubt to tell him that she would certainly not allow him to die.

"But, if I do make it, and I really hope I do, Ginny, because I thought maybe, if you wanted to, we could married sometime after you graduate?" He said the last in a rush, hoping that he knew her as well as he thought he did.

Part of him was shocked that he was even asking that; he was only seventeen, for god's sake. Yet he already had a child, he might die soon, and he knew somehow, that he would never meet a woman he loved more than Ginny. Who was crying, he realized, silent tears streaming down her face. He watched her anxiously. Had he misread her? Moved too soon?

"My god, Harry Potter, are you asking me to marry you?" Now she was laughing and crying at the same time, reaching out to wrap her arms around his neck, and rest her head against his chest while she shook softly.

He pushed her back a bit so he could kiss her eyelids, her forehead, her wet cheeks, and finally, her perfect lips. When they came up for air, she regarded him coyly from under her eyelashes. "Does that mean we're engaged?"

He grinned. "Informally, I suppose. I mean, I haven't gotten you a ring yet."

"Well, hurry up on that." She grinned mischievously. "I guess that means I need to start thinking about baby names again. Your kid took the only really good one I had."

He pulled her into his lap. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. There's only so much your poor mother can take, after all." She nodded agreement, snuggling closer against him. "Anyone, it's _our _kid, right? You'll be her mother in everything but blood."

"Okay, but my mum will kill me if I don't finish school, so I should probably let the happy grandmother do her bit for a while."

Harry looked at her seriously. "And I have to do my kill Voldemort bit. I have to go find the pieces of Voldemort's soul, and then I can kill him, and _then_ I can come back to you and Elaine." He paused. "Are you angry that I'm not coming back to Hogwarts?"

"Somehow, I didn't think you were." She gave him a stern look, poking a finger in his face. "No girls during your adventure, though."

"Absolutely not, " he agreed, laughing. "I mean, Hermione will be there. But you said I had to come back alive, and Ron would kill me if I hit on Hermione, so I guess I won't."

She nodded in satisfaction. "And I'll hold down the fort at Hogwarts, then," she said, slipping an arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder.

Mrs. Weasley walked back in again at that moment, and Ginny jumped out his lap and into the chair opposite him. However, Harry was sure this move did not pass unnoticed by her mother, who had a twinkle in her eye as she handed him Elaine. "She started fussing when Hermione and I tried to put her down. I think she wants her daddy."

_Her daddy. _Harry reached out for her with goose-pimpled arms, holding her numbly to his chest. She quieted quickly against him, clutching his shirt in her perfect, tiny fingers.

"Put her down when she falls asleep, won't you, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Harry nodded.

Smiling, Mrs. Weasley raised her voice and called, "Breakfast in ten minutes!" up the stairs to everyone else not yet awake in the Weasley household. And she walked back into the kitchen, already talking to Professor McGonagall, leaving him with his daughter.

Who had his thick black hair, he realized numbly. And her nose was his, too. Ginny came over and settled down next to him on the sofa, squeezing his free hand. They sat in peaceful silence, watching birds play at a feeder in the backyard.

Yesterday, he hadn't known of Elaine's existence, and he wasn't sure where he and Ginny stood in their relationship. "I absolutely adore her," he informed Ginny, coming to this abrupt realization. "Professor McGonagall is right. I know nothing about my daughter yet, and I love her anyway."

Ginny said nothing, merely smiled and reached out to stroke Elaine's hair softly. "And I absolutely adore you too," he added, lightly brushing her cheeks. Her eyes filled with tears, but she kept her gaze on him steadily. Trustingly.

"I wasn't ever happy, " he said, "until I went to Hogwarts and met Ron and Hermione. But today is even better." He hoped he didn't do anything embarrassing like starting to cry too, though at the moment that seemed like a distinct possibility. "Because today I have you and Elaine. And even though I know I have to track down the Horcruxes and then defeat Voldemort, I'll only be thinking of you."

Being careful not to jar the sleeping infant, Ginny sat on his knee, pulling Elaine into her lap. "I know there are things you have to do," she said in a shaky voice. "But just remember we'll be waiting, okay? Me and Elaine, and all the other people who love you."

"I know, " he said. "I'll remember that in all the pain, there's something worth living for." He leaned over to kiss her again, content to kiss her every day for the rest of his life.

Between them, a scarred but loved little girl slept peacefully, content in her father's arms.

* * *

Let me know what you think, please! My goal is continual improvement. Let me know what worked for you and what didn't (unless you're just going to tell me you hate Harry/Ginny - then I don't care, haha). Thank you!

Also - I had planned on this being a one-shot, because I didn't think anyone would want to read about what is essentially an OC, even if Elaine actually has a pretty good _raison d'etre_. Apparently, I was very wrong, judging by both the reviewers' comments and the number of people who signed up for my chapter alerts, despite this fic being listed as complete.

I am working on a sequel presently, and I hope it to be up by mid-October. As always, thank you for your reviews!


	2. Tears

Harry wasn't sure he would ever be able to close his eyes again without seeing the bodies of people he knew scattered on Hogwarts' stone floors, or the screams of good, admirable people as they were tortured by the hordes of Death Eaters still swarming the grounds.

He had lost Ron and Hermione in the frenzied chaos a half hour ago or more, and stood with his back to Professor McGonagall, shouting spells without pausing at three of Voldemort's hooded and cloaked minions.

The Dark Lord himself stood atop one of the House tables, watching in delight as his troops took down wizards left and right. Occasionally, someone would try to get a spell in at Voldemort, but he flicked the attack away dismissively, like a troublesome fly. Invariably, the attacker would find another Death Eater trying to kill him while his back was turned, and Voldemort would be left alone once more, a horrific dictator surveying his kingdom of death and destruction.

Harry knew he needed to get to Voldemort as soon as possible to prevent more deaths, but he had another, mission, too. A much more personal one.

Bellatrix Lestrange stood not far from her master, black hair fanning out as she twisted and spun to avoid hexes while throwing her own. She had five Ministry officials facing her, and they were at best evenly matched.

Harry hadn't been sure he would be able to murder his own child's mother, despite what she had done to him and Elaine, but seeing her murder Dennis Creevey, a mere boy who had been running _away_ from the fighting, looking even younger than his 14 years, Harry had realized what should have been obvious far before now.

He was going to kill Bellatrix Lestrange because she needed to die. It was as simple as that.

She had left wounds on his daughter that would never heal, she had stolen his virginity when it should have been Ginny's, she had killed and tortured innocent people for pleasure. Her crimes were unforgivable. Maybe his soul would tear a little, as Dumbledore had claimed, at murder, but it was a price he was willing to pay.

Unfortunately, things didn't go exactly as he had planned. He had finally moved close enough to Voldemort to be spotted, and the Dark Lord hissed in fury and threw a fiery curse at him. With no time to do anything but defend, Harry was caught up in the duel, hopping onto the table alongside Voldemort to avoid hitting innocent bystanders.

Voldemort snarled as he faced Harry, aiming curses at him that were designed to kill, though not the Killing Curse. Harry didn't know if its absence was due to Voldemort's fear of a repeat miracle, or because it took too long to say, but he was grateful nevertheless. He wasn't sure he still had the strength to create a shield powerful enough to protect himself from Avada Kedavra.

After several more near-misses on both his and the Dark Lord's part, Harry was forced to leap off of the table, rolling and twisting to avoid Voldemort's well-aimed Explosion Hex. As he bolted upright again, he caught a flash of crimson from the corner of his eye. Glancing quickly to the door, while Voldemort spun around to deal with Bill Weasley and Fleur, he saw with a shock of fear that Ginny had just sprinted into the Great Hall, looking horror-struck at the scene of carnage before her.

Their eyes met, and she screamed. "Harry, behind you!"

Without stopping to consider, he threw himself to the floor again, and just missed a bolt of blue light that froze the area where he had been standing just moments before into solid ice.

Bellatrix Lestrange sneered down at him, twirling her wand in her fingers as she spoke. "How's that little parasite, Potter? Have you had it put down yet?"

All around them, the battle raged, but Harry only felt the blood pumping through his veins. He thought he could hear Ginny shouting from a long way away. His many cuts and bruises from the long night's fights stung distantly, as if in a memory.

This was how it would end, then. He wouldn't even get to avenge his daughter before he died. He hoped desperately that Ginny would survive the night, to live to be a mother to Elaine.

A deafening crack shook the very walls of Hogwarts, and shards of stone and wood crashed to the floor, the dust temporarily blinding Harry. Bellatrix fell to her arse, skidding across the smooth floor, as all around them, Death Eaters and Order members alike were tangled the floor, struggling to rise, sliding and diving for their fallen wands.

Bellatrix, too, was almost upright again, but Harry hadn't been the youngest Seeker in a century for nothing. He was up and pointing the wand at her throat before she could react. He sliced his hand like a knife into her wand arm, snapped her wand underfoot. Her eyes widened slightly, and for the first time that he had ever seen her, Bellatrix looked uncertain.

Her eyes shifted quickly to Voldemort, who was exchanging curses with Neville with some difficulty, as Neville gave back as good as he was getting, and then some. Harry had never been more proud of his friend.

After long moments that only took hearbeats, Bellatrix seemed to realize her beloved master might not be able to come in time to save her. "But what's this, Potter?" she said tauntingly, tilting her head to one side as she made a transparent attempt to stall for time. "Surely you don't want the brat to grow up an _orphan_. She'll be so lonely without her dearest mother -" Her eyes widened in mock-sympathy, but Harry cut her off.

"My daughter's already got a mother," he hissed. "_Avada Kedavra_."

--------------------

After killing Bellatrix, Harry's battle with Voldemort was almost anti-climactic. The Dark Lord had been shaken and unsteady upon seeing the death of his most faithful servant, and his distraction had been enough for Harry and Neville together to cast the killing curse and rid the world of one of the most evil wizards in a millennium.

As he and Neville slid wearily off of the table, Harry realized with a shock that the struggle that had characterized the first seventeen years of his life was over. Everywhere, Death Eaters were dying or dead, and Harry's friends were kneeling over the fallen bodies of their comrades.

Everything was grief and tears, and nothing could make the dead live again.

He forced himself to look around, to take note of the dead. Arthur Weasley clutched Fred's body to his chest, silent tears rolling down his face, as Percy hugged them both tightly. Luna sat between Collin and Dennis Creevey's bodies, holding each of their hands and talking quietly to the air. Hannah Abbot knelt over Justin Finch-Fletchley's ruined form, her lips moving soundlessly as she made the sign of the cross, over and over again.

And there was Ginny, still standing near the entrance, long hair hiding her face as she stared at the ground.

He walked over to her slowly. It had been months since he'd last seen her, and she was more lovely even than in his dreams. And more fragile. He reached out and touched her cheek softly. She had small cuts on her face and neck from the many explosions that had shaken the castle, and her eyes were red-rimmed and bleak.

"Harry, my brother - my brother…" she managed to gasp out, before falling to her knees, racking sobs shaking her whole body.

Harry dropped down beside her, putting his arms around her and drawing her against his chest. "I know…" he said softly, and felt a tear trickle down his own cheek, for a mischievous boy who would never laugh again, for an abandoned twin who would always be missing his other half.

It might have been an hour, for all Harry knew, before they spoke again. Sometime during their grieving, he had pulled Ginny with him so he could lean against the wall and support her weight fully. He had never known how much sadness a human heart could feel, and tried to imagine how much worse it must feel for Molly and Arthur, and the siblings who had known and loved Fred for years.

Hermione came up to them at one point, hair shorn off at a sharp angle from a slicing curse that had just missed her neck. She had rested her hand on Harry's head as if to verify that he was truly alive, and reached down to kiss Ginny on the forehead, and then she was gone again.

Mrs. Weasley came a little later, led in by Ron and Bill, who each had an arm around her as they led her to Fred's body. She was a wreck, face bright red from sobbing and tears still streaming down her face. Harry never wanted to hear the sound she made when she threw herself on Fred ever again. It made the hair on the back of his neck prickle – the primal sound of a mother lamenting the loss of her child.

When Ginny finally seemed to run out of tears, leaving only shivering, he carefully helped her to her feet and led her over to her family and Hermione, who all sat in a circle surrounding Fred's body. He knew she needed her family now, more than she ever had before.

Mrs. Weasley, who had been leaning heavily against her husband and clutching the hem of her robes tightly, glanced up through heartache-filled eyes as they approached. Without a word, she opened her arms up to her daughter, who sank into them without hesitation, sobbing once more. "Shh, my love…my beautiful daughter…he's at peace now."

Having someone else to comfort seemed to give her strength, and she gave Harry a watery smile as she stroked Ginny's hair. "Don't think I left Elaine by herself, dear. Dora's mother came over to look after her and Teddy both at the Burrow."

He couldn't help but smile back. It was painful, tugging at a long slice he had received across his cheek, but he managed. "I wasn't worried at all, Mrs. Weasley."

Suddenly, it struck him that Elaine would have grown over the past few months. Infants grew startlingly fast, he remembered, from seeing his baby pictures of his first year of life. Surely she wouldn't recognize him, would she? How could she? She had been barely four months old when he'd had to leave her. Now she was almost the age he had been when Voldemort had killed his parents. That was a grim thought.

Only, he would make sure her situation was the opposite. He might have missed the first year of his daughter's life, but he would be sure to be there for every moment of the rest of it. Together, he and Ginny would give her a loving, normal childhood.

"-Shouldn't have run off, Ginny! I was terrified for you." Mrs. Weasley was saying, berating her daughter half-heartedly.

"Harry needed me, Mum," Ginny said simply, pulling back to sit between her mother and Harry. It seemed one of the other Weasleys had already told Molly about Ginny's timely warning, for her mother only nodded reluctantly and didn't pursue the matter further.

A silence fell over the group, as they contemplated the dead around them. Already, wizards who had not participated in the battle were Flooing in, searching for their loved ones or levitating away bodies. Ministry workers were laying out unclaimed bodies neatly against the far wall. As one of the workers started to move Tonks' body away from where she lay next to Remus, Ron jumped up and walked over the man to set him straight.

Harry felt a wave of despair wash over him again, and Ginny seemed to sense it. "Mum, I'm going to take Harry back and re-introduce him to Elaine, okay? I've…I've had enough of death for one day." Her voice faltered at the end as she looked at her fallen brother again.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to understand their need to get away. "Yes, go on, all of you," she addressed the group. "George and I will stay with him until we can make…make…arrangements…" she dissolved in sobs again, this time wrapping her arms around George, who accepted his mother's hug but stared over her shoulder at something unseen and horrifying. His eyes were dry.

Arthur rested a heavy hand on Molly's shaking shoulder for a long moment, before he gestured to all of them to follow him out toward the grounds, where they could Apparate to the Burrow.

The Burrow was the same warm, welcoming home it had always been, and Harry had never been happier to sink into the huge yellow sofa in the living room. He was exhausted, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to rise again without help. It seemed selfish to be overwhelmed with some as trivial as tiredness when so many people had died premature deaths this day, but he couldn't fight the bone-deep weariness.

Ron and Hermione each shot him sad smiles before they headed upstairs, probably to have a moment of comfort in Ron's room in private. As they were on the landing, another door creaked open, and a thin, older woman with a stern face came downstairs, holding a child in each arm.

One was an infant wrapped in blankets, that Harry for a moment stupidly thought was his daughter, before he realized the gurgling little girl in the woman's other arm had to be Elaine.

His daughter really did look like a little person now, with a tiny red hair clip in her wispy black hair, bright blue eyes looking around the room interestedly, formerly-sallow skin glowing. Her light tan made her scars more visible, but all Harry could think of was that she looked healthy and happy, which was all he had ever wanted for her.

He didn't remember rising, but suddenly he was standing in front of this woman, who he realized suddenly must be Andromeda Tonks. Tonks' mother looked like someone who had told life to do its worst to her, and it had, but the set of her shoulders and the tilt of her chin proclaimed loudly that she was fighting it every step of the way. "Mr. Potter," she said, unsmiling, and turned to the side so that Elaine was staring at him intently, chewing her lower lip.

He reached out slowly to take her chubby hand in his. When had she gotten so big?

Suddenly, she smiled, and leaned over for Harry to take her from Andromeda. "Dada!" she exclaimed. "Dadadadadada…" she jabbered away happily, reaching up to pull his glasses off. He laughed and sat down with her in his lap, as she swung his glasses around and giggled to herself.

The day had been full of trauma he knew he would need years to fully recover from, but coming home to a bundle of light made all his pain fade to the background. He leaned over to kiss his blurry daughter on the forehead. She responded by standing on his lap to cover his cheeks, his forehead, his lips, with sticky kisses. He grinned.

The stairs creaked, and he looked up to see Ginny walking into the living room, a smile lighting up her face. She had changed into a simple sundress and pulled her hair back into a loose braid.

"How does she know who I am?" he asked, bouncing the squirming toddler on his knee. She squealed and held on tight.

Taking the other infant from Andromeda with a smile, Ginny came to sit down next to him. "I've been showing her pictures of you from _Witches Weekly_ and some other teen magazines every night, and telling her that was her daddy," she said, looking a little guilty.

Harry laughed. "What, those pictures of me from sixth year, when I didn't know anyone was taking my photograph? Where I look all sultry and thoughtful?"

"Harry, those are sexy! That's what girls like!" Ginny giggled.

Mrs. Tonks cleared her throat loudly, and Harry and Ginny looked up guiltily. How could they laugh when this woman had lost her only daughter and her husband only months apart? She took a seat in the chair across from them primly, eyeing them evenly.

"I believe my late son-in-law asked you to be Teddy's godfather, correct?" At Harry's nod, she continued, "I am able to care for my grandson, but I would ask you to visit him from time to time, especially for his father's sake. Of Remus Lupin's still-living friends, you were the closest to him, and I want Teddy to know who his parents were - " here her voice trembled for the first time "– and what they sacrificed."

Ginny's eyes were filled with tears as she reached over to hug the woman, setting Teddy carefully on the couch against Harry first. "Oh, Mrs. Tonks, I'm so sorry about everything. Do you need my mum to take care of Teddy for a little bit?"

Tonks' mother hugged her back genuinely, if a bit stiffly. "No, my dear," she replied, leaning back. "I find that my grandson is my biggest reason for going on. He is a joy to care for." She smiled fondly at the infant, whom Harry realized suddenly had purple hair.

Elaine, who had been leaning against Harry's chest and sucking her thumb contentedly, seemed to have noticed too. She reached over and patted Teddy's head with the clumsy hands of a toddler, babbling something that sounded like, "Teddydeddydedede"

Ginny quickly removed Teddy from Elaine's not-so-gentle ministrations, and returned him to his grandmother. "I should return home," Andromeda said, rising with Teddy in her arms. "Please let your mother know I'll be back tomorrow."

Harry rose with Elaine in his arms. "Please let me see you safely inside your house, Mrs. Tonks. It's the least I can do for looking after my daughter." She inclined her head in assent, and let Harry lead her to the fireplace. As she carefully pressed Teddy against her chest for the rough voyage ahead, Harry set Elaine gently on the floor.

She tottered for a moment while standing, then finally seemed to catch her balance and waddled back over to Ginny, on the couch, shouting, "Mamamama!"

Harry grinned. Mother, father, and daughter, all together at last.

After seeing Andromeda safely inside the house he and Hagrid had crashed into so many months ago, and promising to visit her and Teddy every Sunday, Harry returned to the Burrow to find the living room full of Weasleys.

Ron was tossing a delighted Elaine into the air, over and over again. He grinned at Harry over his shoulder. "Can't believe how much she's grown, eh?" He had showered and changed into jeans and a t-shirt, looking happier than Harry had seen him in months.

Hermione and Ginny sat on the couch, heads bent over magazines that appeared to rotate through various portraits of women with different hairstyles. Harry blinked. They had magazines devoted entirely to haircuts? Ginny was saying, "-get something that shows off your neck, Hermione. Shorter in the back than the front, maybe? Lots of layers?"

And his friend, his wonderful, bookish, no-frills best friend, was nodding as if this all made perfect sense to her, shooting shy looks at Ron from under her eyelashes while Ginny spoke.

"Harry!" Harry turned to see Mr. Weasley beckoning him over, where he and his wife, Percy, and George sat surrounding a pile of moving photographs, all featuring a tall, handsome red-haired boy with a look of someone who laughed often. Harry knelt down beside them, chuckling at a picture of Fred sporting long, pink hair, from a Wheeze's potion that he had tried on himself.

Mrs. Weasley touched his arm gently. "Harry, I just wanted to thank you – George has just told as that you're the one who funded their joke shop. It made Fred's last years with us some of his happiest, I believe." George nodded fervently, his eyes not leaving Harry's.

A silence descended on them, and Harry felt like they were waiting for him to say something. "Fred was a great guy," he said finally. "He and George helped look out for me when everyone thought I was the heir of Slytherin second year, and he always chose laughter over unhappiness. It was my pleasure to give something back to Fred and George, when they shared their family and their happiness so willingly with me."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes swam with tears, and she hugged her to him fiercely. "That was beautiful, Harry. Thank you." She released him, and suddenly Harry realized George was finally crying, huddled in on himself, silently sobbing for his lost brother. Mr. Weasley and Percy moved as one to wrap their arms around him from either side, and Mrs. Weasley leaned forward and held his clenched fists, whispering something fiercely to him.

Harry took it as his cue to depart, rising to snatch his daughter from Ron's lap with a not-very-apologetic smile, and plopping down with her next on Ginny's other side. She paused in her conversation with Hermione – _still_ about haircuts – and smiled at him, reaching out to brush her fingers against Elaine's downy cheeks.

As she glanced over to her family, huddled together around pictures of her dead brother, she shuddered, and reached out to take his hand, grasping it tightly. He stroked a loose lock of hair in her face, and she leaned against his shoulder heavily. "Hey," he said softly, slipping his arm around her. "Are you okay?"

Ginny tilted her head to look up at him and Elaine, as the three of them cuddled together on the sofa. "No," she said finally. "But I will be."

* * *

A small epilogue is coming in a week or so, I just need to polish it. Without the reviewers asking for a sequel, this + the epilogue never would have been written. Thank you all, and please review if you feel so inclined. They make my day!


	3. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_11 years later_

Elaine Lily Potter stood in the entry hallway of her cozy house, fidgeting impatiently with her brand-new robes. _Surely_ she would be late if Mother and Daddy didn't come down the stairs this very instant to take her to school.

She had waited even longer than most future First Years had to start at Hogwarts, because she had begged her father to let her hold off one more year so that she could start Hogwarts with Teddy Lupin.

Her parents had been surprised at her request, considering her love of magic and insatiable curiosity, but had acquiesced after a few months' dogged persistence. Elaine had learned stubbornness from her father and determined patience from her mother, and both those traits came in very handy when she wanted to get her way.

But now, finally, it was happening. She was going to attend Mum and Dad's school, where they had gone to classes for seven years and eventually fallen in love and had her. Of course, she wasn't _naïve_. She _was_ almost a teenager, after all, and she knew it hadn't gone exactly like that.

There had been an evil wizard back then who had made her parents' lives very difficult, and murdered Dad's parents and her Uncle Fred, who had been Uncle George's twin brother, and played with her when she was a baby. The Dark Lord's most valuable servant, Bellatrix Lestrange, had made a baby with Daddy when he was only 15, even though he hadn't wanted to, but then she'd been angry when Elaine was born, instead of a boy.

Daddy hadn't even known he'd had a daughter until she was dropped off at his door when she was three months old. He had been really happy to see her, though, and gave her to his true love, Mum, and _her_ mum, Gramma, to take care of while he went to fight Voldemort. After he won, he came and finished his last year at Hogwarts with Mum, and then they'd gotten married and brought her to their countryside house and made a family.

So even though Elaine hadn't come into the world the normal way, she felt pretty lucky to have a mum and a dad who loved her, and loads of aunts, uncles, and cousins to play with whenever she wanted. She had occasional problems, of course, from the sudden, painful twinges from her scar she sometimes experienced, to dealing with the alarm and distrust from strangers at her strong physical resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange. (Though, as her mother had pointed out diplomatically, Bellatrix had been a strikingly pretty woman before she'd gone to Azkaban, so it wasn't exactly an insult that people made the comparison.)

But overall, she decided, life was good. Well, as long as she wasn't too late to board the Hogwarts train and missed school, and have to wait until she was _thirteen_ to start her first year at Hogwarts, alongside Victoire, her ten-year-old cousin.

At long last, Mum appeared at the top of the landing, carrying little Benjamin and leading Autumn by the hand down the stairs. Her little sister was in tears, and threw herself at Elaine as soon as she reached the bottom. "My Lainee go bye-bye," she wailed, big brown eyes looking up at her older sister imploringly.

Elaine winced. She and her parents had kept her leaving a secret from Autumn, to postpone the little girl's tears as long as possible, but it seemed Mum had finally told her. "I'll be back soon, baby girl," she said soothingly, stroking Autumn's curly hair. "For Christmas, in just a few months!"

If anything, Autumn wailed louder. "Forever, Lainee. That's forever and ever!" She sniffled wetly into Elaine's new robes, but she really didn't mind. Her little sister meant the world to her, and she was more important than clothes any day. Plus, Elaine had to agree that she really would be gone for a long time. She had never been away from home for more than a few days, to spend the night with Victoire at Shell Cottage on the coast or to tour Paris for a couple of days with Teddy and his gramma, Ms. Andromeda.

Mum came over and gently disentangled Autumn from her, saying, "I'm going to drop them off at Gramma's house, sweetie, and I'll be right back. Say 'bye to Benny – he's going to be so much bigger when you see him again."

Smiling, Elaine kissed her adorable little brother on the forehead. He giggled and reached out to tug her earring, but she evaded his hands with the long experience of being a girl who had had helped take care of numerous baby siblings and cousins. She hugged Autumn one last time, and promised to write her letters and draw her pretty pictures at least once a week.

Just that quickly, Mum was at the fireplace, shouting, "The Burrow!" for Autumn, before gently pushing her in, then followed with her brother. Elaine grinned, remembering how surprised she had been when she was eight, and Mum had told her she was going to have a little brother or sister. She didn't know anybody who had siblings eight years apart, but Mum had informed her, laughing, that she had been _very_ young when she became Elaine's mum, and had wanted to wait a bit before she had any more, as twenty-three wasn't exactly too old to have children.

There were footsteps on the stairs again, and Elaine turned to see Daddy walking down, a worried expression on his face. He reached for her and spun her around like she was a little girl again, and she couldn't help laughing. She loved being in the air, no matter how she got there. He drew her into a hug, and whispered into her hair, "How about we put off Hogwarts for another year, angel? I'm going to miss you too much to let you go."

She hugged him back tightly. "I'll miss you too, Daddy, but you can come see me whenever you want." She had a sudden image of her Dad coming into her classes and sitting down next to her, of her being the only student in the school who still needed her parents around. "Well, on the weekends," she amended. Daddy was a war hero, and Headmistress McGonagall had known him since he was eleven, so he really could visit Hogwarts whenever he wanted.

He stepped back to look at her, gently tracing the fine white lines on her face. Her eyes went automatically to Daddy's own scar, a jagged lightning bolt on the center of his forehead. He saw her looking, and said slowly, "Sweetie, there are probably going to be some people at Hogwarts who stare at your scars. They stared at mine, too, when I was in school. I suppose they might ask you about Bellatrix Lestrange, too. Usually it will be someone being thoughtless, not truly mean-spirited, so just be prepared, and remember that you are beautiful and intelligent and special."

He smiled at her reassuringly and kissed her on the forehead. "You're going to have an incredible time at Hogwarts. "

She definitely hoped so, considering that she hated it when people stared at her. It had happened often when she was little, before many people knew she was the Chosen One's daughter, and still did occasionally. She knew the faint designs that covered every inch of her body were strange, but like Daddy said, they were just a part of her, and she certainly couldn't help being related to an evil woman. She hoped the attention didn't last long, though. Teddy and Victoire and all her extended family members never gave her scars so much as a second glance, but when she had gone to France with Teddy a few years ago, for instance, Ms. Andromeda had had to put a Glamour charm on her after she had started crying as the third person stopped in the middle of the street to goggle at her.

She would ignore the stares calmly, like an adult, and wait for them to subside, she decided. That was all there was to it. She wouldn't let them ruin Hogwarts for her.

"Harry? Elaine? Are you ready to go?" Mum stepped back out of the fireplace, long red hair swaying as she hurried over to her husband and eldest daughter. "Mum was out at Fred's grave, so we had to go find her before I could leave the kids," she explained to Elaine's dad, levitating Elaine's school trunk out into the entrance hall. She turned to Elaine with a warm smile. "Ready, love?"

Elaine nodded and took her mother's hand as she Apparated them onto the Hogwarts train station. The platform was noisy and crowded with students hefting heavy trunks and parents bidding goodbye to their students. Elaine quickly spotted Teddy in the crowd, and a grin lit up his thin face as he made his way over to her, his grandmother in tow. His hair, she noted, was orange and spiky today.

"Hey," she said, trying to sound coolly aloof. She fought the urge to take hold of her Daddy's hand.

He smirked. "Hey yourself. Ready to find a seat?"

She nodded and took a deep breath. This was goodbye – if not forever, than for a few months at least, not counting her parents visiting her at Hogwarts.

Mum was crying and making no effort to hide her tears as she hugged Elaine tightly. Her mum's slim, freckled hands reached out to softly tug her hair, as she had done since Elaine was a child. "I love you so much, sweetie. No matter where you're Sorted, we'll be proud of you."

Elaine blinked back her own tears and hugged her mother fiercely. Her mum might not have had her like she'd had Autumn and Benjamin, but she had changed her messy nappies and sung her to sleep while Daddy was off fighting the Dark Lord, and if that didn't make her a mother, then Elaine didn't know what would.

Then her daddy was standing in front of her, looking pained and uncertain for the first time that Elaine could remember. Harry Potter was a distinguished war hero, a Senior Auror, an accomplished Quidditch player, and a proud husband and father. And now he looked like a child who had been told there would be no Christmas ever again.

"Elaine-" he began, his voice cracking. "Elaine, you know Mum and I will always be here for you. No matter what. You Owl me if you need anything, and I'll Apparate up to Hogsmeade immediately, no matter what I'm doing. Okay?" He stepped forward to take her in his arms, so she ended up nodding into his broad chest. "Love you, angel," he said into her hair. "The light of my life."

She reluctantly stepped back as the Hogwarts warning whistle sounded. Teddy was just stepping out of his grandmother's embrace, an uncharacteristically warm expression on her face as she stared down at her grandson. He reached for his trunk, fending off his grandmother's attempts to help him with it, and turned to Elaine. "Ready to board?"

She looked up at Mum and Dad, their arms around each other's waists. Dad's piercing green eyes were misty, and Mum's lower lip trembled. She was going to miss them both so much. Fighting the urge to run back into their arms, Elaine grabbed her own trunk and dragged it toward the Hogwarts Express, her best friend Teddy Lupin at her side.

* * *

_Well, what do we have here? _A voice was suddenly whispering in Elaine's, ear from everywhere and nowhere. A small jolt of surprise, then - _Another Potter? So soon? _She could feel her memories being rifled through, being the flower girl at Mum and Dad's wedding, visiting curse specialists at St. Mungo's, holding her baby sister for the first time.

_I see, _it said finally, somehow sounding a little sad. _Well, the question, my dear, is where on earth to put you? You're a clever, clever girl, no doubt about that. Stubborn, determined, aware of your past but not afraid of it. Ready to take on the world, I should say. You are truly very courageous, but tell me, are you ready to be braver than you've ever had to be?_

Elaine hadn't realized she had any choice in the matter. _I will be as brave as I can be, _she promised. _Does that mean I'll be in Gryffindor?_

_Not for you, dear girl. I have wanted to do this for so long, but your father was the last person who could have done it, and he wanted Gryffindor so badly. It's time to bring the black sheep back into the fold. Be true to yourself, and enjoy your years in _"SLYTHERIN!"

Taking off the Sorting Hat, Elaine smiled at Teddy, seated at the Hufflepuff table, and went to join her new Housemates. It was going to be a good year.

**FIN**

* * *

Not to toot my own horn, but I'm pleased with how this ended. Thanks for everyone encouraging me to continue this; the second chapter and the epilogue never would have happened without you guys. And yes, this is definitely it. I am not up to writing seven years of Elaine at Hogwarts or anything, plus it would probably be pretty boring.

Let me know your honest opinion please! Thank you!


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